


Unlettered

by Corker



Series: Randy Rogues [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Humor, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corker/pseuds/Corker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran scouts ahead to Denerim, leaving Kallian Tabris a letter containing all the things he'd be doing to her if he were there.  Problem is, Kallian doesn't read.  Will any of her companions be able to help her decipher the thing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlettered

With a price still on the Grey Wardens’ heads, marching straight into Denerim didn’t seem like the brightest idea.  They’d done that once, and there’d been a duel as a result.  Someone should go ahead, to test the general mood of the place and find quarters where too many questions wouldn’t be asked.  Kallian favored the dark corners and bolt-holes of the Alienage, for obvious reasons, and the only other one of their party who could move through there without raising  too many suspicious glances was Zevran.  Promising discretion and speed, the assassin set off down the road.   
  
Kallian watched him go, trying not to twist her fingers anxiously.  There might be a price on her head, but the Crows were still after him.  “I should go with him,”  she muttered.   
  
“That would defeat the purpose of scouting ahead, no?”  Leliana patted her shoulder reassuringly.  “He is a cunning fellow and very unobtrusive, when he wishes to be.  If I thought I could do as well, I would have gone with him, but I fear I would only have given him away.”   
  
“I know, I know.”  It had nothing to do with this leaving Kallian alone with Leliana.  Really.  Uh-huh.  Honest.   
  
That’s not fair.  She wouldn’t risk Zev’s life over it.  And she does seem to be handling it well .  Kallian had broken things off with Leliana when it became clear the bard was looking for an eternal-as-the-stars, as-deep-as-the-ocean love that just wasn’t in the elf.  Leliana seemed to take it fairly well; she was obviously disappointed, but knew that the sort of love she was looking for wasn’t one she could seduce someone into.   
  
At least, that’s what she told Zevran when she talked her way into their tent.  Their little experiment in “friends and more” had been going smoothly so far, but it hadn’t been tested this way before.  The unspoken but acknowledged rule was that Leliana could join them both, but not either one alone.   
  
But if the bard had anything planned, she was waiting to make her move.  Leliana excused herself to take her turn on patrol in the woods around the campsite, and Kallian went to her tent to grab a bowl for lunch.   
  
She rummaged in her knapsack for a moment before pulling out her prize.  Turning to go, she stopped, eyes falling on a folded note laid on her bedroll.  She opened it and ran her finger over the careful lines of words.  She recognized her own name, up at the top, and it was signed with an elaborate ‘Z’ that left her in no doubt of the writer.  But the words in the middle were a mystery - there was no Chantry school in the Alienage, after all.   
  
Wynne likes books.  She can read!  Kallian found the elder mage engaged in exactly that activity, the book held out to one side as she carefully held a spoon on the other.  Every minute or so, she turned to the spoon-side to take a mouthful of the bowl of pottage that rested next to her, then turned back to the book.  “What are you reading?” Kallian asked curiously.   
  
Wynne jumped slightly in her seat.  “Warden, you startled me!” she scolded, closing the book hastily.  “Is there something you need?”   
  
Kallian nodded, smiling brightly.  “Zev left me a letter.  Can you read it for me?”   
  
Wynne blinked in astonishment.  “You can’t read it yourself?”   
  
Kallian had to laugh.  “‘Course not!  What, does everyone in the Tower know how to do it?  I guess you sure had a lot of books there...”   
  
“Maker’s breath,” Wynne shook her head at the fallen state of the world.  “Of course, dear, I’ll read for you.  Let’s see...”  She held out her hand, and Kallian obligingly put the letter into it.  Wynne held it out to where she could discern the shapes of the letters.  “‘My dearest Warden, sweet Kallian...’”   
  
The Warden in question sighed happily and sat down next to the mage.  Wynne actually smiled as she continued.  “‘Do not worry for me in my absence.  I assure you, I can manage Denerim very well and will be in and out before any have seen me.  I am only sorry that I will be parted for you for a few days.’”  Wynne met Kallian’s eyes over the paper.  “Truly, you have been a good influence on him, Warden.”  She looked back down.  “Now where was I... ah.  ‘...a few days.  Considerate as I am in all things touching on you - or just touching you - ‘“  Wynne’s voice grew slightly uncertain, “‘I have thought as to how to best provide for your considerable appetites in... the... time...”  Wynne trailed off, eyes moving quickly over the page for a brief moment before she squeezed them both shut.  She held the letter out toward Kallian by a single corner, as if it were contaminated with darkspawn taint.  “Take this, Warden, if you please?”   
  
Kallian did, slowly.  “What’s wrong?  Why’d you stop reading?”   
  
“It is a... very  personal letter, Warden, containing a level of detail concerning your relationship I would have preferred to never have seen.”   
  
“Oh?”  Kallian stared at the paper, now quite interested indeed.  “It’s like... dirty talk, but... in writing?”   
  
“Yes yes, I suppose,” Wynne said quickly, taking up her bowl in both hands.  “You might call it that.  Probably the most polite way to put it.”   
  
“But I can’t read it!” the Warden wailed.  “Please, Wynne!”   
  
“No,” the mage said stubbornly.  “Regardless of the magnitude of your appetites, I’m sure you can wait a few days for his return.  Or... work something else out.”     
  
“I will,” Kallian replied, equally stubbornly, as she stood abruptly and started marching across camp.   Well.  Not like I really want fussy old Wynne reading me sexy things, anyway.  In fact... ew.   
  
Leliana was, in some ways, the obvious candidate, but... that could be awkward, considering their situation.  Best to try someone else first.  Someone with a nice voice who wouldn’t get all flustered reading the letter...  “Hey, Sten?”   
  
“Yes, kadan?”  The giant had Asala resting across his knees as he worked the edge with a whetstone.     
  
“Zevran left me a letter.  Can you read it to me?”   
  
The whetstone scraped to the end of the blade and paused.  “No.”     
  
“Come on, Sten!  It’s not even that long!  You can get right back to Asala,” Kallian wheedled.   
  
“The length of the letter does not matter, kadan.  Unless the other elf wrote it in qunari script, I am afraid I cannot read it for you.”   
  
“Oh.”  It never occurred to her that the qunari would write differently than the Fereldens.  “They taught you how to speak Ferelden before they sent you here, but not to read it?”   
  
“The arishok did not think there would be anything worth reading.”   
  
Kallian laughed.  “Fair enough.  Sorry to bother you, Sten.”   
  
“It is no bother, kadan.”   
  
Thoughtfully, Kallian paced father away from the fire, to where the great golem kept its vigil.  “Hello, Shale.  How are you doing today?”   
  
“I have found a spot well away from any trees those flying vermin might be perched in.  So far, so good.”  Stone ground on stone as Shale turned its glittering eyes down to see the Warden.  “Why does it ask?  Is it going to ask more pointless questions about my past?”   
  
“Just one.  Can you read?”   
  
“The mage Wilhelm found it useful to have me be able to read certain passages of his tomes aloud to him as he worked, yes.  And nursery rhymes, whenever his dribbling spawn desired them.  Which was  constantly!  If I ever so much as  see a nug in a rug, I shall squish it, just on general principle.”   
  
“Would you read this for me?”  Kallian held up the letter.   
  
“Oh, I suppose.  Why not?”  The golem’s gravelly voice covered the ground Wynne already had.  “‘I have thought as to how to best provide for your considerable appetites in the time I am away.’  The painted elf is concerned for the Warden’s appetite?  Perhaps because the other Warden is cooking?  You squishy creatures, always worrying about your next meal.  ‘So I will write down here what I would be doing for you, were I still there.’  What?  The painted elf is providing recipes for the Warden?  Quaint, I suppose.  The women in that damnable village were quite vicious about their recipes, as if Gelatinous Glop over Wood Chips were a treasured family secret that must be protected at all costs.  Every festival, they would bring out these long tables and simply  fill them with - “   
  
“Shale?  I thought you didn’t want me asking pointless questions about your past?”   
  
“What is it talking about?  It hasn’t asked a single question.  Where was I?  Oh, the recipes from the painted elf.  ‘The first night I am gone, take out that mirrored amulet you keep and light a lantern.’  It has a mirror?  I would not have thought it so vain.  ...Does it have it handy?  I would so like to see these how these crystals look.  I’m terribly worried that the green makes me look all mossy and unkempt.  Do you think the purple ones were more intimidating?”   
  
Kallian sighed and folded up the letter.  “It’s a really small mirror, Shale.  I don’t think it would work.”   
  
“Pity.  Doesn’t it want to hear the rest of the recipe?”   
  
“...I’ll just eat Alistiar’s pottage, thanks.”   
  
“So glad I could help, then.”   
  
Shaking her head, Kallian moved on.  She didn’t get far before Sandal came skipping over, eyes bright with anticipation.  “Enchantment?” he asked eagerly.     
  
“Sorry, kid,” she said, smiling and ruffling his hair.  “No enchantments today.  Just this.”  She gestured with the hand holding the letter.   
  
To her surprise, Sandal tracked it and even put a gentle hand on her wrist so he could get a better look.  “You can’t enchant it, Sandal,” she said, as his big eyes moved over it.   
  
His cheeks turned a bright red after a moment and he trudged back to his father’s wagon with an odd hitch to his gait.  Kallian thought she heard a murmured, “Enchantment!” but it was drowned out by Bodahn’s vocal approach.  “Oh, hello there, Warden!  Is that something for me?”   
  
“No,” Kallian said hastily, but the surface dwarf didn’t appear to hear.  “Is that a trade manifest?  I’ll pay silver for those.  Private document, perhaps?”   
  
“Private document, not for sale!”  Kallian declared, hurrying off before Bodahn could grab it from her.  She looked up to see that she wasn’t very far from Morrigan’s private fire.   Morrigan is smart and knows a lot.  I bet she can read.  She talks freely about things the others won’t.   
  
Yes, talks freely ...  Whatever was in the letter, Kallian was sure Morrigan could turn it into fuel for a thousand sarcastic jabs and hours of unwanted commentary.  Not a good idea.   
  
She was running out of options, to the point that she actually paused to think for a moment when Oghren leered at her, “Whatcha got there, Warden?”   
  
“It’s a letter from Zevran,” she said slowly.   
  
“The one the old lady’s been going on about, eh?  Heh heh, why don’t you come sit on my knee and I’ll read you your bedtime story.”   
  
Kallian actually fell back a step.  “Oghren!  That’s disgusting!”   
  
The dwarf harrumphed.  “Oh sure, three to a tent with ropes and chains is all for fun, but ask ‘em to call you ‘Daddy’ and  you’re the pervert.  Don’t need you judgin’ me, Warden,” he said darkly, before tossing back a mugful of his latest brew and stumbling off.   
  
Kallian groped for a stump to sit down on as Branka’s pigtails took on an entirely different, disturing meaning for her.  This... had gone  horribly wrong somewhere along the line.  She dropped her head into her hands with groan.   
  
“Hey, you all right?”  Her fellow Warden approached hesitantly.  “Was the pottage that bad?”   
  
“What?”  Kallian looked up.  “Oh.  Um, actually, I haven’t gotten to lunch yet.  It smells all right, though.”   
  
“You need to eat,” Alistair chided her.  “Is that your bowl by the fire?  I’ll get you some.”  She watched him go with a speculative gaze.   Points for the voice, but he won’t get past where Wynne left off...   
  
“Here you go.”  He held out the bowl and a spoon, which she accepted, setting the letter down to do so.  He glanced down.  “Is that the letter you need read?  Why not just ask Leliana?  You’re still... close, aren’t you?”     
  
She sighed.  “It’s complicated.”   
  
“I bet.  All those arms and legs, where do you put them?”   
  
Kallian nearly choked on the spoon.  “Do you  really  want to know?”   
  
He had the good grace to blush.  “Maker’s breath, no!  It was just a joke.  I’m not prying, honest.”   
  
“You could, if you wanted to,” Kallian smiled impishly.     
  
“Okay, now you’re talking complicated,” Alistair said, holding up two hands, palms out.  “You’re not interested, I got that message. Finally.  I really don’t need to hear about... things.”   
  
Kallian set down lunch to dangle the letter suggestively.  “Would you like to?”   
  
“I... um.”  Alistair visibly swallowed.  “I really don’t know that it’s appropriate for me to be reading your private message.  From your lover.”   
  
“Zev would approve.  Trust me on this.”   
  
“Only because he thinks it’s funny to see me stammer like an idiot,” Alistair demurred.     
  
“Look, it’s pefect!  We know where we stand with each other, right?  And you can read.  And you really  want  to read this, right?  You’re dying of curiosity, admit it.”   
  
“I’m admitting no such thing.”   
  
“Oh, come on!  Who else can I ask?”  She turned her best big-eyed plaintive look on him, the one that used to routinely get her out of spot checks with the younger, less experienced members of the Denerim Guard.  “I’m crazy to know what’s in there...   Please? ”   
  
“...Very well,” Alistair relented, pre-emptively blushing.  “But because it’s important to you, all right?  Not because of some... sick prurient interest or anything.”   
  
“Right.  Absolutely.”   
  
“You agreed a little too quickly there,” he said dryly, taking the letter up.  “All right, let’s see.  Can’t be worse than listening to you when I’m on watch, right?”     
  
“I don’t know!  Read it and we’ll find out!”   
  
Alistair made it fairly smoothly through the opening, bobbling just slightly as the instructions started.  “‘The first night I am gone, take out that mirrored amulet you keep and light a lantern.  You should hold the mirror so that you can see your own face, and I wish that you keep your gaze there.’  Why would... never mind. I’ll just... keep on.  ‘Take the first two fingers of your other hand and suck them gently for a moment, and think of me.  Now find the dainty tip of your ear, my dear, and stroke gently down to the lobe.  That feels nice, yes?  Do this again, and a third time quite slowly.  Have you closed your eyes?  If so, give the tip a good pinch.  Ah, what am I saying?  Pinch it in any case.  It is what I would do, were I there.’”   
  
Alistair paused, one eyebrow raised.  “I don’t get it.”   
  
Obviously , Kallian thought, gritting her teeth at the interruption.  For one thing, he hadn’t stuttered at all; humans didn’t seem to place half the importance on ears that elves did.  She was feeling warm just listening to the instructions, imagining the sliding strokes, the cool from the disappearing wetness, and the pinch - !  She tilted her head slightly to one side, feeling phantom fingers on her ear already.  “You don’t have to get it,” she growled, voice low.  “You just have to read it, remember?”   
  
“Oh.  Yes, of course,” Alistair said, suitably abashed.  “I just mean that it doesn’t seem as bad as Wynne was making it out to be.  Anyway...  if he were there, right.  ‘I have left...’ A frostrock?  Is that right?  Why would you need a - “   
  
“Alistair!  More with the reading, less with the commentary!”   
  
“Right.  ‘I have left a frostrock in your pack.  Take this in your hand and use it to lightly circle your br-  your breast.  Make the circles smaller and smaller, a spiral if you will, until you are just near the... the... the...”   
  
“The nipple?” she prompted, unhappy with this break in the narration.   
  
“Yes, that,” Alistair said, quite grateful.  “But first, change to the other side and do this again, because I wish to tease you, my Warden.”  Alistair paused to swallow hard and scratch the back of his neck.  “Whew.  This is, um...”  He looked up from the letter and his eyes widened.  “Hey, wait, what?  You’re... you’re not going to... I mean... right now?” he squeaked.   
  
Kallian glanced down.  Unbidden, her hands had risen to cup the sides of her breasts.  “Oh, sorry about that,” she said, pulling the hands away and sitting on them.  “Means you’re doing a great job, though!  I’m going to have a tough time waiting for tonight.”   
  
“Ehm?”  Alistair made the connection that no, really, the instructions he was giving now would be enacted later, by his fellow Warden, and he blushed from collar to crown.  “I... um, okay, I’m starting to think maybe this wasn’t the best idea.”   
  
“Oh no, you don’t!” Kallian exclaimed.  “No backing out now! At least finish the part for the first night!  Come on!”   
  
“All right, fine, then you put the rock on your bits, and - “   
  
“That is not what it says!”   
  
“It’s the gist of it.”   
  
“Which bits?  This is important, you know!”   
  
“ Those bits,” he gestured vaguely at her torso.   
  
“Nipples!  The word is  nipples! ”   
  
“Fine, yes,  nipples  and really, I am done here.”   
  
“Alistaaair,” she tried the doe-eyes again, but the effect was somewhat... altered now that her cheeks were flushed, her lips were slightly parted, and her ‘bits’ were poking rounds in the fabric of her shirt.     
  
“Maker’s breath,” he muttered, looking away and setting the paper down.  “Really,  really  a bad idea.  Massively, epically bad.  I’m... going on patrol now.”   
  
“No!” Kallian cried out in disappointment, striking the stump with her fist.  She looked mournfully at the letter.  There was all  sorts  of fun there, she just knew it, but she couldn’t have any of it.     
  
Well, almost any of it.  She at least had a start.  She consoled herself with that as she ate the blasted pottage, wondering what other manner of delights she could be missing.   
  
“Ah, there you are,” Leliana said as she moved to take a seat next to the Warden.  “Alistair said you had something you needed me to read?”   
  
Kallian shook her head.  “I don’t know, Leliana.  It’s... bedtime instructions from Zevran.”   
  
“Ah, I see.  Say no more,” the bard nodded, understanding the implications.  “Perhaps I might read it to myself?”   
  
Kallian stared at her, uncomprehending.  “What good would that do?”   
  
“Well,” Leliana drew out the syllable, “if I read the whole thing, maybe I can get a better idea if it’s something I can read to you?  And if it isn’t, I know how to keep a secret.”   
  
“You won’t be... I don’t know, upset?”   
  
Leliana laughed.  “Upset? Oh, no.  Inspired, possibly.”   
  
“What if Zevran didn’t mean for you to see it?”   
  
“I am guessing that he did not put this into your hands, or you would have told him you couldn’t read it, yes?  So he left it somewhere for you.  Can you imagine for one minute that he would put to paper something he would rather be kept secret, and then just leave it out?  No, that is not his way.  What if I had stumbled upon it?  Could that have happened?”   
  
“Only if you were in my tent...”   
  
“Which could have happened if you had asked me to get you something from there.  See?  I think it is safe.”   
  
Curiosity and desire warred with discretion, but only briefly. Kallian Tabris had never been particularly discrete.  “All right.  Here.”  She handed the missive over to the bard.  She was practically bouncing where she sat as Leliana read it carefully.  “What’s it say?  What’s it say?!”   
  
“Just a moment... I... oh.  Oh!” And unexpectedly, Leliana dissolved in laughter.   
  
“What?  What’s so funny?”   
  
“Here,” the bard gasped for breath, pointing to some lines just ahead of the final ‘Z.’  “Here it says, ‘Or if you prefer, and if you wish, go find our mutual playmate and have her follow all the instructions here.  I am content to have her act as my proxy in this, and you should thank her for her hard work in whatever manner you find suitable.  However, I will require a full report, very detailed, when I return, possibly with a demonstration.’  I think... I think it’s all right if I read it!”  And she laughed again.   
  
“So  tell  me!  What’s it  say? ”   
  
“Oh no,” Leliana said with a devious smile.  “It’s very clear that he wants you teased mercilessly.  You can just wait until dark to find out what comes next.”  She folded the paper neatly longways and slid it into her decolletage.  “I’ll keep this safe until then.”   
  
“Oh, this is not fair!” Kallian protested indignantly.   
  
The bard leaned in closer to whisper into her ear: “It’s not meant to be.”  She lingered there for just a moment as Kallian made a strangled sound of protest, then moved gracefully to nip at the nearby ear-tip.  She drew back even as the Warden inhaled suddenly.  “Just keep thinking about that, and I’ll see you after supper.”   
  
Seconds on pottage suddenly couldn’t come soon enough.


End file.
